Ceasefire
by Fadingsummer
Summary: Otacon has made a mistake, and decides he should do something about it.


In the intervals of his attendance, I spent my time programming stupid little moving avatars of myself, because I knew it would make him laugh when he came back.

I never know when a smile is genuine. I can't read people's expressions like normal people can. But I've never met anyone with such clear emotions as Dave. I feel what he's thinking, I can even hear it in his voice. So when he says 'I'll be back soon' it can mean a million things. And I know which one.

His smiles have become rare, I must say, ever since he found out certain things about his origins and we discovered how deep the worldwide conspiracies really were. I had seen it; his frown never left his face anymore.

He's disappointed in the world and its inhabitants, and the worse it gets, the more often our conversations end in a frustrated sigh. He never gets agressive towards me, but there have been times that I was afraid of him, of certain looks in his eyes; when I say all the wrong things and lose my concentration and he glares at me.

I turn my pen around in my hands, hanging in my chair in front of the desk. My clock tells me it's 0.06 AM. I've already shut down the systems I have been using to help him get through the security measures of the building he's been in. Even my codec's off, since we don't want anyone to trace us to here.

Pling, 0.07. I get up and walk to the door, all set to open it and close it again in just a second.

A knock. Then another, after four seconds. I let him in, then shut off the apartment. Anyone knocking it after now is reason for our escape plan.

I haven't even had time to take a good look at him. I turn around.

He's on his knees in the narrow hallway, breathing heavily. I kneel down next to him and try to look him in the eyes, but he avoids me.

'Are you okay?' I only say that because I have to say something, to make sure he isn't hurt. I know he's mad at me again, because our plan hadn't really worked out and it had all taken much longer than we had initially thought. I got impatient, and had sighed 'Idiot,' in the microphone when he didn't understand what he had to do. It was out before I knew what I was going to say. It had become alarmingly quiet on the other side and I knew I had ruined it for another week. I didn't even try to apologize. He wouldn't listen. Dave isn't the guy to apologize; he believes every apology is the result of not having been thoughtful enough. In this case, it sure was.

He gets up and shakes my hand off his shoulder.

'Dave,' I say in a weak voice.  
He waves it away and disappears in the bedroom, leaving me in the hallway.

It's probably better to leave him alone; wait for him to fall asleep. I tremble and sigh a couple of times. I don't think he understands how I feel. When it comes to reading atmosphere, Dave is on my level.

I return to the pc, click around, then fall back in the chair.  
I can't pretend nothing's wrong. It's not right to be here while he's there, probably still awake, stubborn as he is, staring at the ceiling. He hasn't even told me about his current condition, or how it went today.

He doesn't know how much I care. Maybe I should let him know.

I can feel my heart beating, in my throat, in my head, as I carefully enter the room, dressed in a t-shirt and boxers, as if I'm just stepping in my bed on the other side of the room. I know he can hear me.  
I stand beside his bed and look at the shape in the blankets. I don't see him so clear without my glasses on. I'm unsure about how to move on from there, so I just stand there.

'What's the matter, Otacon,' he grumbles after a few minutes.

Somewhere in my head, a window pane is being smashed.

I don't answer. I step in his bed, lie down next to him and put an arm around him. I notice his grey pyjama trousers are all he's wearing. The warmth of his body encourages me, and I press myself tighter against his back.

Whatever he had expected, it couldn't have been this. He freezes, doesn't say a word.

So we're in bed together. It's warm underneath the blankets and he and I slowly start to relax.

'Sorry,' I whisper in his ear. 'I didn't mean it.'  
'No, I see.' He sounds a little shy, a sound I had never expected to hear from him.

He turns around and embraces me, mumbling 'come here'.

'Are you okay?'  
'I'm fine.'

His right hand moves to my hair. I hold him close. I don't want us to be apart, even if it's just a few inches. I guess he feels the same way.

'I've missed you,' he says, the moment before he kisses me. He doesn't say much, Dave.

I don't know why he's kissing me. I hadn't planned it that far. But I'm glad he does. I don't remember if I have ever felt the way I'm feeling right now. I don't think I have.

He doesn't stop. He moves slowly, and I can't grasp the fact that this is my Dave, the same Dave as the one I know. It's hard to close my eyes and lose sight of him, even though the lights are down and I hardly see anything. It's like I'm drowning and the thought of going back to the surface doesn't even occur to me.

Our lips lose contact. His fingers touch my ear along its weirdly twisted lines.

'Goodnight, Hal.'

I can't breathe. He has officially killed me. He almost crushes me in his arms, then gives me a gentle push. I turn around and roll back in his arms. He feels my neck, checking my pulse. I hear him smile.

Falling asleep in his arms is incredibly easy and impossible at the same time. I want him to hold me forever, I can hear him breathe, and I'm still going over the past few minutes in my head. But I'm tired and my eyelids keep falling.

Monday the 12th of January, 2009  
2.12 AM


End file.
